“You said you’d see me home,” Vicky says.
“Your home’s where I am,” I reply, reaching across to take her hand in mine. I don’t want her going for her door before the cab’s moving, but the locks engage as he rolls away from the curb.
“Great, Alex, great.” Vicky looks away from me, out of her window. “You make a scene as I arrive, and you make one when I leave too.” She looks back at me, eyes as sharp as her tongue. “How wasyourevening?”
Fourteen
Vicky
The cab pulls up outside Alex’s apartment. When was I last here? I can’t remember, it’s been that long.
He opens his door and gets out. I don’t; I wait for him to close it.
But he doesn’t. He’s not stupid, more’s the pity.
“Get out,” he says, while he’s standing in the road, his door held open, leaning forward to watch me while I sit there.
Resigned, I reach for my door handle. I don’t know what the cabbie thinks, but he’s carefully avoiding looking at me. Not the first domestic he’s witnessed, and not the last either. He’s practiced.
Alex waits until I’m half out of the cab before he slams his door and strides around. I can’t get back inbefore he reaches me, so I don’t bother trying. Tempting, though.
His fingers close around my arm again, though my coat gives me some protection. My bicep hurts.
Together, we walk into his apartment building. Past the doorman, who acknowledges Alex with a nod and gives me a curious look. I think Alex sees, because his grip tightens further. Then we’re at the elevator, and he pushes me in before him, like I’m an unruly child.
“You’re being a dick,” I say as the doors close, and I don’t care if the doorman hears.
Alex doesn’t reply, and the elevator begins its ascent to the twenty-fourth floor.
“What the hell’s the matter with you?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer, or even look at me. He stands right in the center of the elevator, facing the doors, ignoring me like I don’t exist. Yet he’s not the perfectly composed Alex I’m used to seeing. His mouth’s tight, and the muscle in his jaw clenches and relaxes as the only sign he hears me.
I’m not sure if it’s a relief or a problem when the elevator reaches his floor.
He doesn’t grab me this time, but steps out first, expecting me to follow. He’s four strides down the hallway before I do. The carpet’s thick enough to muffle the sound of my footsteps, and he pauses, gives a half-turn, checking I’m heeling like a good puppy.
Apartment 24A, and his door’s bigger than my bed. He opens it, walks in, holds it as he waitsfor me. I don’t really want to follow him, but what choice is there? A fight, here on the landing? Call Carol to come and get me? She doesn’t have a car and can’t drive mine. Besides, it’s forty-five minutes, and our fight will be over by then.
I’ve never seen Alex angry, and he sure looks that way.
Why, I really don’t know. All I did was what he wanted me to.
“What is your fucking problem?” I ask as I walk in. He closes the door behind me. The lights are low, illuminating the hardwood floors, open plan space, white walls and cream sofas. The city’s spread out beneath us, and I remember the view from the windows is fantastic. But that’s not where my attention is right now.
He still doesn’t answer me, just throws his keys in a bowl on the dresser, pulls his coat off, and lays it over the back of the sofa.
Then he turns and looks at me.
There’s not enough light to see the color of his eyes, but his glare sends a shiver through me. It’s primal, raw, and not an expression I’ve seen on his face before.
I take a step back, and that’s the wrong move.
He’s on me before I can back up again, his hands inside my coat, pushing it off my shoulders. Five grand’s worth of cashmere hits the floor, and now I can’t move, because my heels will catch in it. His hands return, running up my bare arms, over my shoulders, encircling my neck. For a breath, I wonderif he’s going to squeeze. This close, his eyes are so intense I wouldn’t put it past him.
Then his thumbs meet beneath my chin, tilting it up, and he leans in.
He kisses me.
Alex is fucking kissing me.
